


Watermelon Ice

by rosepetalrichie



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Drunken Teenagers, M/M, bc if it doesnt have drunken shenanigans in it, i didn't write it, short n simple, some smoochin, trips to 7/11 with bae, very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalrichie/pseuds/rosepetalrichie
Summary: “Watermelon Slurpee with a side of Stanley Uris’ tongue down your throat. Delicious.” Richie teased.“Shut your dumbass face.” Stan reconnected their lips.





	Watermelon Ice

This wasn’t the first of the parties Stan and Richie had gone to together. And it definitely wasn’t the last.

Richie had gradually gotten Stan out of shell over the last few months, dragging him along to various shitty college parties that took place. No matter how many times Stan had gone, he still said he hated them and only went to babysit Richie, but Stan-after-an-abundance-of-jello-shots begged to differ, and Richie always ended up being the one to babysit Stan. Stan had fun anyway, and Richie learned that Stan was actually a pretty good dancer and absolutely killed it on the dancefloor.

Which was where they both currently were, bouncing along to some song that filled the living room, the noise wafting through the large amount of people crammed together. Stan had a red cup tipped up into his lips, draining the last bit of his vodka and lemonade. If it wasn’t for Richie still being just sober enough to keep him from doing so, Stan would’ve just left the lemonade out completely. Richie was more of a plain beer person, and had a bottle in his hand, taking the occasional sip and sometimes accidentally getting some on his shirt from being bumped by the people around him. 

Stan had his free hand giving a death grip to Richie’s shirt, and he fell into a fit of giggles as he leaned his shoulder in Richie’s chest. Richie wrapped an arm around Stan’s waist to support him, and somehow they were still managing to dance.

Richie leaned down to Stan’s ear. “Having fun?” He shouted. Stan’s reply of ‘yeah!' was just barely audible over the music.

“More drink?” Stan loudly slurred, still giggling, and held his cup up to Richie’s face.

“Alright, Stan the man, one more.” Richie grinned and kept Stan propped up against his side as they made their way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was much less crowded. Richie dug out a can of beer from one of the boxes and held it out to Stan, who shook his head and once again thrust forward his cup.

“Give me a biiiig boy drink. None of that… _pussy_ beer bullshit.” 

Richie shook his head back and replaced the cup with the beer can. “Can’t get shitfaced. We still gotta get home.” Stan just groaned in response, cracking open the can and taking a sip. Richie leaned against the counter and swirled around the last of the liquid in the bottle. He noticed Stan’s grimace at the beer and scoffed with a smirk.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad. You’ve done a fuck ton of keg stands before.”

Stan frowned. “Yeah, but it’s not like… it’s di-” he hiccuped. “-fferent.”

There was a shout coming from the living room that Richie made out to be the host telling everyone to get out. Richie stood up and wrapped an arm around Stan’s shoulder, patting his arm. “We gotta go.”

Stan whined in response, trying to pull away. _“More drink.”_

Richie giggled, and leaned down to hike Stan’s legs up so he could carry him. “We’ll get you more to drink at the dorm.” Stan didn’t argue back, just snaked his arms around Richie’s neck and rested his cheek on his shoulder.

 

They must’ve looked crazy to the few people they passed by in the street. Richie now had Stan on his back, and they were both (very loudly) singing a drunken medley of Backstreet Boys songs.

Stan slapped his hands on Richie’s mouth with a gasp. “Rich.”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go to 7/11.”

“...you’re a fucking genius, Staniel.”

And so they went. Richie made Stan get off his back, but Stan still clung to his side as though if they were to be separated it would be the end of the world. They idly strolled through the aisles, until they reached the Slurpee machines, and both of their faces lit up.

They both got the biggest cups that they could, looking at the flavors. Richie stepped forward first, erratically putting all of the flavors into his cup.

Stan scoffed behind him. “You’re fucking gross.”

“No you.”

“Literally shut the fuck up.”

They both sat outside on the curb with their Slurpees, Stan sitting in between Richie’s legs with his back against his chest. They didn’t talk, save for Richie’s occasional mutter of ‘this is fucking good’. He was currently loudly trying to get the last bit of juice at the bottom, and Stan took it away from his hands before he gave Stan a stroke.

Richie brought his hands around to grip Stan’s cup and giggled. “You know, I’ve always... really liked watermelon.”

Stan leaned his head back to look at him with an equally goofy face. “Oh really?”

“Uhh-huhhh.”

Stan abandoned his own cup, setting it to the side and twisting himself around and bringing his face way too close to Richie’s. “Wanna taste?” He slurred, still widely grinning.

Richie didn’t a chance to respond before Stan’s lips were on his - well, it was mostly just messily clashing teeth from smiling too largely and licking into each other’s mouths. It probably couldn’t even be considering kissing. Not properly, anyway.

By the time Stan pulled back, both of their lips were swollen and spit-slick, and they both laughed loudly and Richie pulled Stan into his lap.

“Watermelon Slurpee with a side of Stanley Uris’ tongue down your throat. Delicious.” Richie teased.

“Shut your dumbass face.” Stan reconnected their lips.


End file.
